


Misery in Cuba

by hchannibloom (bleepin_ufo)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Cuba, F/M, Friendship, Hannigram - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, hannibloom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8780140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleepin_ufo/pseuds/hchannibloom
Summary: When Will dies unexpectedly, Hannibal calls on an old friend to help him cope.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crazyjane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyjane/gifts).



> This was initially meant to be a nice fluffy Cuba Hannibloom fic for a Christmas gift. But as is to be expected with killing off a character, it got a little dark so I'm gifting it (early) to crazyjane instead (because I know dark & twisty is sometimes her thing).
> 
> All errors are mine, I pretty much wrote this in one sitting.

Hannibal’s hand shook as he typed a number long-memorised into his smartphone. 

 

“Hello this is Dr Alana Bloom.” 

 

“Alana, you must come immediately. It’s Will.” His tone was thick with shock. He lowered the phone, but did not disconnect it. She would come, and she knew better than to bring the cavalry with her.

 

 

The apartment was in the opulent part of Havana, with swimming pools and sun-soaked marble balconies. As far as places to disappear went, Alana thought it quite lovely.

 

She’d traded her wool suit for an ecru linen one, and despite her pale skin blended in well enough with the locals. She’d used Verger resources to trace Hannibal’s exact location, a fact her wife wasn’t happy about.

 

But Hannibal needed her, and so she had come.

 

He ushered her inside quickly enough, into an open plan living room with clawfoot furniture and tiled floors. The grave look on Hannibal’s face explained well enough his inability to greet her. And she saw no sign of Will.

 

“Where is he? Is he hurt?” Alana searched Hannibal’s gaze. She’d known him fifteen years and had never seen him so lost within himself.

 

Stepping forward, Alana grasped his forearms, digging her fingers in until their eyes locked. A single tear rolled down Hannibal’s cheek as he croaked out a few words. “Will’s dead.”

 

Alana didn’t release him, instead loosened her hold and rubbed his upper arms soothingly. “Where is he? Have you made the arrangements?”

 

Hannibal swallowed hard, his gaze meandering towards a large chest freezer in the corner of the room. Alana’s followed suit, and she stepped back, a wave of nausea rolling through.

 

“Hannibal, no. Tell me you didn’t.”

 

His stare was vacant as he responded. “The neighbours would have complained about the smell…”

 

Alana rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Then why do you need me?”

 

“You’ve always been a good friend to me Alana. And right now I need a good friend. Without Will my life has lost its meaning. But Will wouldn’t want me to die with him.”

 

Alana nodded, though her gaze wandered back to the freezer. “And you’re eating him because…?”

 

“I don’t expect you to understand my reasons, Alana, but if you must know, I wish to take every part of him inside of me, so I can carry him with me always.”

 

Alana succeeded in not pulling a face. “How did he die?”

 

“Does it matter? He is dead, knowing why will not change that fact.” He took Alana's hands. “Will you stay?”

 

His tone is so earnest, so pleading, so unlike Hannibal Alana knows he is being genuine. And after all this time, she wants to comfort him, to offer him whatever support she can. “Of course.” She breathes, and enfolds him in her arms.

 

As Alana inhales the scent of Hannibal her nose wrinkles, and as she pulls back to look at him she can see the layers of sweat dirtying his skin.

 

“You need to take a shower.” She says firmly.

Hannibal nods, but makes no move towards the back of the apartment where the bathroom and shower are located. Instead he waits for Alana to gently take his arm and guide him there.

 

She runs the water lukewarm and helps him to undress, reminded of helping patients shower during her residency. Once Hannibal is under the water he just stands there numbly though, so her pressed linen suit and lace underwear are soon discarded.

 

Alana joins him under the spray, not in the guise of a lover but of a nurse. Carefully she makes sure every crevice is washed clean with the musky shower gel he has chosen.

 

That done, Alana helps him out and dries them both off. She notices Hannibal’s chest is shaking, and he places a firm hand on her shoulder as he chokes out a series of sobs.

 

She wraps an arm around his waist, guiding him into the darkened bedroom and between silken sheets.

 

“When was the last time you slept?” Alana asks, but he remains silent save for his sobs. She tucks a sheet over Hannibal’s body and goes to leave the room and get dressed.

 

Hannibal’s arms flail out towards her, clearly distressed. “Don’t go, Alana. Please don’t go.”

 

He is aware enough to recognise her then, Alana realises. Getting back into bed with Hannibal is a dangerous prospect, but he’s in no state to participate in amorous activities, and so she slips in behind him, spooning him with her arms around his waist.

 

Hannibal’s grip is like iron, and she begins to realise that if she hadn’t come, he probably would have taken his own life. He needs human connection, and if Will can’t give it too him...well it makes her wonder that she’s the next person on his list.

 

Even once he falls asleep, Alana is trapped, so she too drifts off, face nestled in his back.

 

The sun rises lazily and Hannibal sleeps late. How strange Will feels behind him. Smaller. Less hairy. And less aroused than usual.

 

He opens his hands and as he sees Alana’s dark red manicure reality floods in. Hannibal’s face crumples, and he grasps her hands again, desperate to regain the delusion that Will is there with him, not in pieces in his freezer.

 

Alana stirs, still groggy as Hannibal clings to her. Her voice is sharp as his distress grows. “Hannibal! Hannibal stop! You’re hurting me!”

 

She wrestles her hands free, half sitting up.

 

Hannibal covers his face, sobbing. Eventually his breathing evens and he peeks out from behind his fingers.

 

“May I...hold you, Alana?” He asks with some embarrassment. “Will used to enjoy that. We both did.”

 

Alana frowns. “I’m not Will, Hannibal. I can’t replace him.”

 

“We had something together once.”

 

“You used me. To be fair I fell for it, but you never felt about me the way you felt about Will.”

 

Hannibal is silent a moment. He knows Alana is right. “I don’t want to be alone.” Another beat “We had funeral sex over Will once before, many moons ago.”

 

“That was forever ago. I’m married now, I have a family to think of. I can’t go indulging stupid crushes.” She goes to climb from the bed.

 

“Alana wait.” Hannibal takes firm hold of her arm. “Show me what it means to be alive again. Then you can leave.”

 

“Look me in the eye and tell me you won’t just be thinking about Will.”

 

“Of course I’ll be thinking about Will.” Hannibal replied, cradling the side of Alana’s face. “But he’s hardly the only one I’d been thinking about.

 

Alana hesitates for a split second, and it gives Hannibal the time he needs to press his mouth to hers. It’s so very different to kissing Will, less scratchy, and she tastes of vanilla.

 

Hannibal does nothing but kiss her for a while, reacquainting himself with the easy erotic rhythm between them.

 

Finally, their lips part, and they share a heady gaze, pupils dilated with lust. As Hannibal resumes the kiss he lowers Alana onto the sheets, trailing his fingers lightly up her inner thighs then down her body, grasping the curve of her breasts.

 

Her hands settle on Hannibal’s shoulders, back arching as he drops his mouth to suckle on her nipples. He finds their curve and sensitivity novel after months of lapping at Will’s flat brown nubs.

 

Though Hannibal kisses down Alana’s belly, he stops short of her vulva. That is entirely too different from Will for his liking. Instead he encloses a hand around her slender ankle, angling it over his shoulder the way she always used to enjoy so well.

 

Alana’s eyes open as Hannibal hovers above her. He slips his cock through her slit a few times, teasing her, but not enough to make her beg. He doesn’t want her to say anything at all.

 

Smoothly, Hannibal slips his cock inside Alana. She’s deliciously hot and wet, and although he could finish quickly, he wants to savour this experience. It’s not so different from fucking Will, if he closes his eyes.

 

Inevitably though, the fantasy is broken when Alana’s pleasure begins to build, soft whimpers dropping from her lips.

 

It makes Hannibal pick up the pace, out of anger or to force the experience to be over quickly, he’s not sure which.

 

Alana’s cries only grow, and as Hannibal’s eyes finally open he can see she has given of herself as completely and beautifully as ever. And he realises he is using her as he always has, however pleasurable those times may have been.

 

Hannibal comes with a dissociated grunt, after doing the gentlemanly thing of letting Alana climax around him.

 

It is not the same as it was with Will. It will never be the same. He certainly doesn’t want to spend the next however many years of his life going through the motions with Alana.

 

She senses his despair, cupping his cheek. “You’ll find someone, Hannibal.”

 

“Not like Will. There’s no one like Will.”

 

“Maybe not. But life goes on.” She laughed forlornly “There was a time when I thought you were the love of my life. How wrong I was.”

 

“I’m glad that I brought you happiness.”

 

“You also brought me suffering.” Alana shakes her head “But without that, I may never have met Margot.” She nestled into Hannibal’s chest. “I think you’ll feel better after you’ve honoured Will, in whatever way you see fit.”

 

Hannibal stroked her hair back from her face. “I suppose you’re going to decline my invitation to dinner.”

 

“You’re my oldest friend Hannibal, but I can’t eat Will, I’m sorry.”

 

“Very well. But you must stay with me a while, until I’m feeling better. There’s an empty room down the hall.”

 

“You don’t want me to stay with you?”

 

Hannibal took a moment to consider before he responded. “Perhaps for a while. But I wouldn’t want to come to depend on you too much. As you say, you have a family.”

 

“We’re not the people we once were.” Alana agreed.

 

“No, we aren’t. We both have our scars and burdens to bear. But at least we still have each other.” He kissed the top of her head.


End file.
